Lays of Ancient Rome Part 5

The Battle of the Lake Regillus

A Lay Sung at the Feast of Castor and Pollux on the Ides of Quintilis in the year of the City CCCCLI.

I

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note!

Ho, lictors, clear the way!

The Knights will ride, in all their pride, Along the streets to-day.

To-day the doors and windows Are hung with garlands all, From Castor in the Forum, To Mars without the wall.

Each Knight is robed in purple, With olive each is crowned; A gallant war-horse under each Paws haughtily the ground.

While flows the Yellow River, While stands the Sacred Hill, The proud Ides of Quintilis Shall have such honor still.

Gay are the Martian Kalends, December's Nones are gay, But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides, Shall be Rome's whitest day.

II

Unto the Great Twin Brethren We keep this solemn feast.

Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren Came spurring from the east.

They came o'er wild Parthenius Tossing in waves of pine, O'er Cirrha's dome, o'er Adria's foam, O'er purple Apennine, From where with flutes and dances Their ancient mansion rings, In lordly Lacedaemon, The City of two kings, To where, by Lake Regillus, Under the Porcian height, All in the lands of Tusculum, Was fought the glorious fight.

III

Now on the place of slaughter Are cots and sheepfolds seen, And rows of vines, and fields of wheat, And apple-orchards green; The swine crush the big acorns That fall from Corne's oaks.

Upon the turf by the Fair Fount The reaper's pottage smokes.

The fisher baits his angle; The hunter tw.a.n.gs his bow; Little they think on those strong limbs That moulder deep below.

Little they think how sternly That day the trumpets pealed; How in the slippery swamp of blood Warrior and war-horse reeled; How wolves came with fierce gallops, And crows on eager wings, To tear the flesh of captains, And peck the eyes of kings; How thick the dead lay scattered Under the Porcian height; How through the gates of Tusculum Raved the wild stream of flight; And how the Lake Regillus Bubbled with crimson foam, What time the Thirty Cities Came forth to war with Rome.

IV

But Roman, when thou standest Upon that holy ground, Look thou with heed on the dark rock That girds the dark lake round.

So shalt thou see a hoof-mark Stamped deep into the flint: It was not hoof of mortal steed That made so strange a dint: There to the Great Twin Brethren Vow thou thy vows, and pray That they, in tempest and in flight, Will keep thy head alway.

V

Since last the Great Twin Brethren Of mortal eyes were seen, Have years gone by an hundred And fourscore and thirteen.

That summer a Virginius Was Consul first in place; The second was stout Aulus, Of the Posthumian race.

The Herald of the Latines From Gabii came in state: The Herald of the Latines Pa.s.sed through Rome's Eastern Gate: The Herald of the Latines Did in our Forum stand; And there he did his office, A sceptre in his hand.

VI

"Hear, Senators and people Of the good town of Rome, The Thirty Cities charge you To bring the Tarquins home: And if ye still be stubborn To work the Tarquins wrong, The Thirty Cities warn you, Look your walls be strong."

VII

Then spake the Consul Aulus, He spake a bitter jest: "Once the jays sent a message Unto the eagle's nest:-- Now yield thou up thine eyrie Unto the carrion-kite, Or come forth valiantly, and face The jays in deadly fight.-- Forth looked in wrath the eagle; And carrion-kite and jay, Soon as they saw his beak and claw, Fled screaming far away."

VIII

The Herald of the Latines Hath hied him back in state: The Fathers of the City Are met in high debate.

Then spake the elder Consul, And ancient man and wise: "Now harken, Conscript Fathers, To that which I advise.

In seasons of great peril 'Tis good that one bear sway; Then choose we a Dictator, Whom all men shall obey.

Camerium knows how deeply The sword of Aulus bites, And all our city calls him The man of seventy fights.

Then let him be Dictator For six months and no more, And have a Master of the Knights, And axes twenty-four."

IX

So Aulus was Dictator, The man of seventy fights; He made aebutius Elva His Master of the Knights.

On the third morn thereafter, At downing of the day, Did Aulus and aebutius Set forth with their array.

Semp.r.o.nius Atratinus Was left in charge at home With boys, and with gray-headed men, To keep the walls of Rome.

Hard by the Lake Regillus Our camp was pitched at night: Eastward a mile the Latines lay, Under the Porcian height.

Far over hill and valley Their mighty host was spread; And with their thousand watch-fires The midnight sky was red.

X

Up rose the golden morning Over the Porcian height, The proud Ides of Quintilis Marked evermore in white.

Not without secret trouble Our bravest saw the foe; For girt by threescore thousand spears, The thirty standards rose.

From every warlike city That boasts the Latian name, Fordoomed to dogs and vultures, That gallant army came; From Setia's purple vineyards, From Norba's ancient wall, From the white streets of Tusculum, The proudust town of all; From where the Witch's Fortress O'er hangs the dark-blue seas; From the still gla.s.sy lake that sleeps Beneath Aricia's trees-- Those trees in whose dim shadow The ghastly priest doth reign, The priest who slew the slayer, And shall himself be slain; From the drear banks of Ufens, Where flights of marsh-fowl play, And buffaloes lie wallowing Through the hot summer's day; From the gigantic watch-towers, No work of earthly men, Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook The never-ending fen; From the Laurentian jungle, The wild hog's reedy home; From the green steeps whence Anio leaps In floods of snow-white foam.

XI

Aricia, Cora, Norba, Velitrae, with the might Of Setia and of Tusculum, Were marshalled on the right: The leader was Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; Upon his head a helmet Of red gold shone like flame: High on a gallant charger Of dark-gray hue he rode; Over his gilded armor A vest of purple flowed, Woven in the land of sunrise By Syria's dark-browed daughters, And by the sails of Carthage brought Far o'er the southern waters.

XII

Lavinium and Laurentum Had on the left their post, With all the banners of the marsh, And banners of the coast.

Their leader was false s.e.xtus, That wrought the deed of shame: With restless pace and haggard face To his last field he came.

Men said he saw strange visions Which none beside might see; And that strange sounds were in his ears Which none might hear but he.

A woman fair and stately, But pale as are the dead, Oft through the watches of the night Sat spinning by his bed.

And as she plied the distaff, In a sweet voice and low, She sang of great old houses, And fights fought long ago.

So spun she, and so sang she, Until the east was gray.

Then pointed to her bleeding breast, And shrieked, and fled away.

XIII

But in the centre thickest Were ranged the shields of foes, And from the centre loudest The cry of battle rose.

There Tibur marched and Pedum Beneath proud Tarquin's rule, And Ferentinum of the rock, And Gabii of the pool.

There rode the Volscian succors: There, in the dark stern ring, The Roman exiles gathered close Around the ancient king.

Though white as Mount Soracte, When winter nights are long, His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt, His heart and hand were strong: Under his h.o.a.ry eyebrows Still flashed forth quenchless rage: And, if the lance shook in his gripe, 'Twas more with hate than age.

Close at his side was t.i.tus On an Apulian steed, t.i.tus, the youngest Tarquin, Too good for such a breed.

XIV

Now on each side the leaders Gave signal for the charge; And on each side the footmen Strode on with lance and targe; And on each side the hors.e.m.e.n Struck their spurs deep in gore, And front to front the armies Met with a mighty roar: And under that great battle The earth with blood was red; And, like the Pomptine fog at morn, The dust hung overhead; And louder still and louder Rose from the darkened field The braying of the war-horns, The clang of sword and shield, The rush of squadrons sweeping Like whirlwinds o'er the plain, The shouting of the slayers, And screeching of the slain.

XV